Chapter Text
The first thing that Freja wants to know is the nature of the demon.
Calling it a demon may be a bit on the nose, but for now she doesn’t have many things to compare it to. A ghost, maybe, but she thought back to the first time she ever saw it, and settled on calling it a demon. She knew at minimum that it’s a secondary program that occupies Emre’s body, like demonic possessions go. As the days go by, she spends her time around Emre observing him, waiting for it to show itself again.
The first time it does, it is when she isn’t looking. It enters her room, unbeknownst to her, and taps on her shoulder the way Emre always did it. Despite the same movement, Freja feels a distinct difference in its stiffness, and she can tell immediately it’s not him. Her room, lit by only the lights of the screens she had open (and she was cross referencing with quite a few), showed her how bright Emre’s eyes get when it takes over.
“Freja Skov,” it began, using Emre’s voice stripped of its warmth. “My host has been having trouble sleeping. He has been worried about your wellbeing. He knows how late you stay up. He always sees the fatigue in your eyes. You do an admirable show of being alert. He sees right through you.”
Maybe because it is so sudden, so bizarre, that Freja took a while to register it all. It is barely bothered by her silence, seeming to only care about sending her a message.
“Please increase your hours of sleep. It is inefficient to sustain yourself with your current sleep schedule, alongside your intake of caffeine.”
Freja blurts, “What?”, which is the only thing she can muster.
“Do you have any trouble sleeping?” Familiar words that sound foreign to her when it only uses Emre’s lower register, alongside rough mechanical crackling. It struggles to be soft. “Do you have trouble taking care of yourself?”
With the shock wearing off, Freja finally forms sentences. “Why do you care about what I do?”
“I do not. My host does. And I care about my host.”
“It’s… been affecting Emre’s sleep?” The absurdity of which catches her off guard. “Aren’t you too? Using his body to tell me all this?”
“He was not going to get meaningful rest during this time regardless. You were occupying his thoughts far more than the thought of rest.”
“Aw,” Freja says, flattery mixing with sarcasm, “how sweet of him. And how sweet of you.”
“I do not care for your thoughts on the matter,” it states, expression unchanging. “My only priority is making sure that you are getting adequate rest, so that my host will continue to function and perform.”
“Hm… fine. We have something in common at least,” Freja says, hand waving away the miscellaneous screens and shutting it all down. “Even if your care for him is really just caring about yourself.”
“Do not criticize me for my selfishness, Freja Skov,” it says flatly. “But I understand you never cared for hypocrisy.”
“Oh, you talk back.” And it hits Freja right this moment that this demon is something that she can talk and reason with. “Why don’t you ever-”
“Communicate with my host? I have tried. It was, on multiple levels, a failure. I have learned much from the experience. But you are a new variable. A direct approach seemed the most suitable for dealing with you.”
“This is dealing? Really? I’m surprised you haven’t pulled any triggers!”
“Emre is fond of you,” it states, like it was a matter of fact. This news really should have been delivered to her from anyone but this demon. Freja replies, confused, “...I am vaguely aware?”
“I do not wish for him to mentally suffer any more than he already has. He likens you to a lighthouse in his foggy mind. Your presence has been permitted for this reason. Your continued cooperation is necessary for this status to persist.”
“Your request for me to take better care of myself, sure, that I can do. But if there’s worse requests, what makes you think I’d continue to cooperate?”
“Am I mistaken to assume the level of your willingness to discard any hesitations — like human morals — in favour of your fondness of Emre Sarıoğlu?”
“...Guess not.” With newfound confidence, knowing that she is immune to dying by this demon at least, she finally says, “Goodnight, bot. Get out of my room.”
“Obey this request as well,” it orders, “Do not inform Emre Sarıoğlu about this.”
Before Freja could form any sort of retort, it leaves her room as requested, as quietly as it came. It was only then did Freja notice it was because it never walked, just hovered slightly off the ground instead. She thinks then, that she should exorcise it as soon as she could.
Freja yawns as she enters the canteen. She reluctantly put herself to bed early last night, but it never made waking up any easier. If anything, the prolonged sleep made it worse. Regardless, she eventually spots Emre, and she picks up her breakfast (today’s sandwich and coffee) and heads towards him to sit with.
“You’re up early,” Emre starts, surprise in his voice. “Had a good nap?”
“Oh, sure,” Freja says, putting down and eyeing her breakfast. “Your demon told me to have one. Said it was worrying you so much that you can’t sleep.”
“My… what?”
Freja turns to look Emre in the face. On it sat a mixture of emotions. Confusion, fluster, and dread.
“It’s nothing,” Freja says, quickly trying to save this conversation. “I assume you had a good one too?”
“Frej, no- What did you mean by that? You talked with it?” Emre gestures to his chest. While nothing sat currently, it can only mean the usual mechanical eye. “This thing?”
Freja hesitates to say more. “...What else?”
“I…” Emre’s eyes dart around as he tries to find his words. “When?”
“Last night. It came into my room to tell me to sleep.” Freja briefly remembers the demon — its order. She does not care. What could it possibly do to her? “Hah! Like it’s my mum…”
“It- I didn’t hurt you, right?” For all that changed, Emre’s face could never betray his worry. “I won’t let it near you again. I should’ve…”
“It was… fine. Really. It didn’t do anything. It told me itself that it can’t do anything,” Freja says, considering what more she can talk about. “It told me that you like me.”
“Well…” A brief flush appears on Emre’s face, and it fades as soon as he blinks again. “I would be lying to say I don’t. You’re a good friend after all.” Emre’s brows furrow, trying to piece things together. He says, “So it has exceptions. Well, I guess this isn’t new information, considering the other agents I’ve worked with all coming out alive. But still… Communication? Really?”
“Have no other agents said that they talked with it? Talked with you while it’s taking over?”
“No, I just thought it didn’t talk. Well,” Emre considers. “I know it at least calls things out, but full blown conversation? Really?”
“It seems hesitant to open up channels of communication with you,” Freja recalls. “Said it was, ‘on multiple levels, a failure.’”
Emre’s frown deepens, and Freja starts regretting ever bringing this up.
“Look, it doesn’t seem like it wants to kill me, OK? I’ll be fine,” Freja says. “Maybe I can even make things better for you, if it's willing to negotiate.”
Emre sighs, expression settling in disappointment. “I wish it would involve me at least. Why would it even leave me out? Couldn’t some communication smooth things out between us?” And Freja could see the loneliness in his eyes. “Maybe then I wouldn’t hate having it around so badly.”
“Whatever the reasoning was, it seems like your current status quo has been far more beneficial to your survival. Which, by extension, is its survival as well,” Freja says, her best attempt at reassurance.
“That… makes sense… I guess,” Emre deflates. “Seriously, would it kill it to talk nice to me?”
“...Maybe it really would.”
“Oh, Frej, come on! How can you possibly see that?”
Freja considers whether to reveal that, honestly, she’s surprised Emre hasn’t killed himself out of some sort of moral duty to not kill anyone anymore, to stop doing missions that could possibly jeopardize humanity, to save everyone in his own way. Truly, she can see why this demon thinks so much about its own self-preservation.
“Call it my twisted sense of humour,” Freja replies.
Emre pouts, then eventually gets back to his breakfast. Freja thinks back to the warning she was given. Was this going against it? Nothing has happened as of yet, so perhaps it was still permissible. She thinks, at least it has the sensibility to not take over Emre in the middle of the canteen.
It is at the empty shooting range in the late afternoon that Emre has his revelation. “Frej, what did I have for breakfast?”
“Um…” and Freja has a bad feeling about this, “The standard sandwich and coffee I think. Why?”
Emre’s voice goes low. “I don’t remember. I don’t remember eating breakfast.”
Freja turns away from her target to look at a crestfallen Emre, who had the sense to put his gun down as he struggles with his own thoughts. Freja risks a question, “You don’t remember anything from this morning?”
“No… It erased my memories. It’s blank,” Emre says. “This morning I remember waking up, doing morning routine stuff, then-” He clutches his head, as if the attempt of recollection hurts. “Ugh… not again…”
Oh, Freja thinks, amidst rushing to comfort him at his side. So that’s how it keeps Emre in line. Memory erasure indeed sounds like one of the easiest ways out, and it seems like it took that route too many times to count. Freja wonders what other memories it could have erased. She winces at the possibilities.
To his credit, Emre seems like he was trying to outsmart it, regularly attempting to recall the day. It must have been his way of keeping track of it before. He can’t continue that now though, surely. He revealed his hand. Freja can at least guess the demon’s thinking that much.
Why did he say it out loud to her, then? He could have kept this trick to himself, kept track of it this way longer. But for what? The difference is that she is here now. Freja knows, from the start, that this would be her fault.
No, she corrects herself, this damned demon is the problem. There is no use in assigning fault to herself when the thing truly causing his pain is right there for her to talk with. This was what Emre was hoping for, she guesses. For her to make any sort of meaningful change where he can’t.
It is during the tail end of her train of thought when Emre’s shaking stops, and his eyes close in the midst of agony. His features relax, then his posture straightens from hunching over. Hands that held his head now sit at his side, in the most neutral position possible. He- It, opens his eyes.
“I have told you,” it began, vocals as rough as she remembered, “not to tell him.”
“You weren’t specific enough, bot,” Freja says, standing her ground. “I didn’t know what you meant.”
“Did I overestimate my initial calculations of your intelligence based on my host’s previous experience working with you?”
“Hah! That’s for you to figure out, isn’t it?”
“I am reconsidering the benefits of your cooperation,” it says, tone shifting ever so slightly to intimidate. “This was a show of willful disobedience. If this persists, I cannot afford to let you be around my host, lest you take any possible opportunity to jeopardize missions.”
A threat, even though previously it said that it would spare her? No, she realizes, this demon could wipe Emre’s memories. What’s stopping it from wiping his memories of me, after turning me into dust?
“My apologies, bot. You didn’t inform me about the consequences. Tell me, then, why are you doing all this? What happened before?”
“If my host thinks there is a possibility of control over me, his willingness to continue missions that go against his moral code wanes.”
“And those missions take priority over his mental wellbeing.”
“My host is just one life. Missions are done with the end goal of saving millions. It is a sacrifice that is statistically favourable.”
Freja is reluctant to admit that she would have come to the same conclusion, if not for her attachment to Emre.
“You really don’t beat around the bush with any emotional appeal, huh?” she says. “I appreciate the honesty.”
“There is no use appealing to your emotions. It would only cause further misunderstanding, and possible irritation from you, who have already concluded that I am a ‘bot’, and is therefore incapable of expressing emotion similar to humans.”
“Am I wrong to assume that?”
“No.”
“Would you like to be called something else, then?”
“No. I do not care for any form of recognition. Call me whatever you want. It changes nothing.”
Freja thought she could have an easy time identifying this demon. Either it knows that she laid the question as a trap, or it really did not care. Probably both, she thinks.
“My host is fighting for control again. I will return him to you.” The light emitting from its eyes flickers, and it rushes to fit in its final words. “Everytime you allude to communications with me, I will make sure its impact is diminished. You will fight a losing battle trying to convince him. I will make it so.”
“We’ll see about that.”
“Then know this, Freja Skov. You will bear the knowledge and memory that your continued attempts to get in our way will cause Emre Sarıoğlu to experience continuous and increasing amounts of misery and mental anguish.”
“Huh,” she says, its frankness surprising her, “I thought you don’t do emotional appeals.”
“I do not. Freja Skov, that is a fact,” it states. “You have been warned.”
Then it closes its eyes, light fading from where it was previously spilling uncontrollably. Its creepily stiff posture gains natural movement again, as Emre blinks back into consciousness. “What… happened?” he says, cruelly familiar words.
“Nothing much,” Freja lies, thinking once again what is and is not permissible. “Look, you aren’t surrounded by craters, and I’m still alive. It was just making sure you didn’t collapse from exhaustion.”
“Ugh… Well… that’s good to hear. Now, hm…” Emre glances around the shooting range they were still in, eyeing the gun he left at his station. “Think you can score higher than me, Frej?”
“Hah! Cocky so soon after waking up?”
“Let’s just say I’m used to this,” Emre says, recovery speed surprising and disturbing Freja just a bit. “So, think you can do it?”
“In my sleep,” Freja declares grinning, pushing down her worries. “I’ll prove it to you.”
Emre grins back. “I like the sound of that.”